


Vinettes

by BornofFlame



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, vinette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26393206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BornofFlame/pseuds/BornofFlame
Summary: can you feel the darkness?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ...

I want a knife so I can slit my wrists and have the pain bleed away and out of me. I want to be free of this hell-hole, and told that I matter. I wish I had talents, but I don’t, even my parents tell me that. I could close my eyes and escape to a place in my mind, a place where I am loved and matter.

But reality is there, clawing at the corners of my safe place, opening me to the truth. 

They keep telling me the same story, over and over in a chanting march.  _ You don’t belong, you don’t matter, you are ugly. Why haven’t you given up yet? Why did you ever think you had a chance. _

I want to be free of the noose that was placed on my head, round my neck, the second I was born.

But I’ll never be free.

It tightens,

_ Tighter, tighter… _

The rope is snug now,  it grew into my skin, like the morning glory vines grow into trees . You’re reading this now, aren’t you? That sickening feeling in your stomach, all because you thought you were helping.

You just pulled it tighter. 

You’re in my mind now, and it scares you. A twisted forest, filled with creepers and a wall. A wall that’s too high to climb, too deep to dig under. This is what I’ve been broken into, what  _ you  _ broke me into. On the outside you see a bright, submissive person. 

It’s a pity I’m a coward. How I won’t ask for help.

What demon would hurt the least though? The verbal or the physical?

I think I’ll take the physical beating, with a side of you don’t matter. Just hand it to me like a plate of fries. 

You’re laughing, you think it’s a funny story. That I’m over exaggerating or something.

I’m not. This is my life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...

I really thought I did something right, becoming friends with you. I thought, maybe it will work this time and I won’t be left with a pile of cinders.

But I was wrong.

Again.

You called me a hundred things, and friend wasn’t one of them. I told you everything, my darkest secrets, and you told me nothing. When I said you were my best friend, you told me that I wasn’t yours.

I stood behind you every step of the way and you kicked dust in my face. I should of stopped the day that you tried to strangle me with my braid. I didn’t, I said I would make it work. When I asked you what you thought of me, you told me that I was mean. 

Sometimes the best way to avoid breaking your heart is to pretend you don’t have one. Yet, I still broke mine. I opened myself to a friendship, and look where it got me, just another burned bridge. 

I feel empty, betrayed.

The worst part is that you told me that you never cared. I’ll be lying awake tonight, tomorrow, thinking about when it all went wrong, and you’re already over it. 

It’s happened to me before. Everytime, the other person moves on, and I live a hell trying to figure out  _ what  _ I could of done. I’ll spend months, hoping, waiting for you to come around, and you won’t. The others didn’t. 

The sad thing about it is that I’m used to it…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...

I have a collection of daggers. Each one is ornate and unique. You may not see them as daggers though.

You see secrets.

They are daggers though, because when you tell someone a secret, you hand them the very thing that could destroy you.

But they don’t.

Because that’s what love is.

Some of the knives I have are new, shiny and sharp as a song. Others are dull and rusted, no longer of any worth, the secret is out. 

Some are my own. The ones I’ve never trusted anyone with. The ones I can’t force others to hold.

The nights I spend awake, unable to sleep. Or when I’m clawing at my floor, kicking myself, with tears streaming down my face. Crying because of something I can’t control, and can’t fix. Flinching when a friend hugs me, because I’m still trapped from when  he touched me.

I couldn’t force them to hold that for me, it wouldn’t be fair.

I gave my best friend one, silver with inlaid runes, and she stabbed me with it. The blood ran down my chest, mingling with salty tears. The wound’s healing, but it still hurts when I move too fast. Another friend gave me one of their daggers then too. They told me to hold it for them, and that they would be back to get it. Sometime. 

I’m so tired of secrets, done with the he said that she heard from so-and-so, that you told them this.

I didn’t.

I hold your dagger quietly, watching as someone else that you also trusted, twists it in your back, as you point the blame at me.

I won’t tell, the secret is not mine to give away. 

I’ll keep it until it rusts in the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...

**Author's Note:**

> ...


End file.
